Dear Diary,
We went flying again today. He's gorgeous when he has the wind in his face - his hair whips around like fire, and there's this sparkle in his eyes that he usually only gets from fight Hook. I zoomed ahead of him so that he'd see up my skirt. No such luck. He figured I was racing and challenged me. I let him win, of course. I always do.
Dear Diary,
God he's beautiful. He can be arrogant at times, but he really does care. Plus, he's cute when he's being tricky. But sometimes...I just hate it when he's being all nice to the Indian princess. You can tell she likes him. Always smiling, dancing near him, flipping her hair around his view. Wench. What would he see in her? She's just a neighbor. You don't see her keeping Peter company, warning him of danger, playing hide-and-seek with him, or even assisting his flying abilities. So what am I worried about? She's got nothing on me.
Dear Diary,
I starved myself again. I couldn't let him see me. I'm not beautiful at all like the princess. I'm ugly. I'm a hideous, fat, flying thing and I bet he hates me. That's all I really am. A guide. An alarm. Heck, I bet he sees me as more of a sidekick than a friend. I really want him to want me, though. I dream of him every night. I wonder if he dreams of me?
Dear Diary,
How stupid am I? He never grew up. He'll always be that little boy. He'll never love me the way I love him. He'll never dream of me. He probably thinks girls are yucky. But lately, there's something in his eyes. An almost sad like quality. He looks so wistful, like he misses something. And sometimes, when he sleeps, I can hear him muttering. He always cries out the one word that makes me cry as well. The word I took him away from to spare him heartbreak from like so many children I've ignored. He wanted to come with me then. "Mom."
Dear Diary,
Last night, I watched him sleep. Late at night, I fluttered over to his bedside and sat there, so close. He's perfect, like a frail sculpture that might break if you were to touch him. He was dreaming, too. He kept twitching like a dog and kind of growling. It was too adorable. I wanted to crawl into his bed and sleep there, curled up, right next to him. But he'd probably crush me, anyway.
Dear Diary,
He lost his shadow again. He asked around the whole island, but it isn't there. So that leaves one last place. Earth. The closest city to Neverland is London. We're going there tonight. Just him and me. Alone together at last, without all those pesky Lost boys around. Nothing can mess up tonight.
We went flying again today. He's gorgeous when he has the wind in his face - his hair whips around like fire, and there's this sparkle in his eyes that he usually only gets from fight Hook. I zoomed ahead of him so that he'd see up my skirt. No such luck. He figured I was racing and challenged me. I let him win, of course. I always do.
Dear Diary,
God he's beautiful. He can be arrogant at times, but he really does care. Plus, he's cute when he's being tricky. But sometimes...I just hate it when he's being all nice to the Indian princess. You can tell she likes him. Always smiling, dancing near him, flipping her hair around his view. Wench. What would he see in her? She's just a neighbor. You don't see her keeping Peter company, warning him of danger, playing hide-and-seek with him, or even assisting his flying abilities. So what am I worried about? She's got nothing on me.
Dear Diary,
I starved myself again. I couldn't let him see me. I'm not beautiful at all like the princess. I'm ugly. I'm a hideous, fat, flying thing and I bet he hates me. That's all I really am. A guide. An alarm. Heck, I bet he sees me as more of a sidekick than a friend. I really want him to want me, though. I dream of him every night. I wonder if he dreams of me?
Dear Diary,
How stupid am I? He never grew up. He'll always be that little boy. He'll never love me the way I love him. He'll never dream of me. He probably thinks girls are yucky. But lately, there's something in his eyes. An almost sad like quality. He looks so wistful, like he misses something. And sometimes, when he sleeps, I can hear him muttering. He always cries out the one word that makes me cry as well. The word I took him away from to spare him heartbreak from like so many children I've ignored. He wanted to come with me then. "Mom."
Dear Diary,
Last night, I watched him sleep. Late at night, I fluttered over to his bedside and sat there, so close. He's perfect, like a frail sculpture that might break if you were to touch him. He was dreaming, too. He kept twitching like a dog and kind of growling. It was too adorable. I wanted to crawl into his bed and sleep there, curled up, right next to him. But he'd probably crush me, anyway.
Dear Diary,
He lost his shadow again. He asked around the whole island, but it isn't there. So that leaves one last place. Earth. The closest city to Neverland is London. We're going there tonight. Just him and me. Alone together at last, without all those pesky Lost boys around. Nothing can mess up tonight.